“I’m afraid, too. Why was this information about my license released to the media? Is that standard procedure as well?”
“I wasn’t responsible for that.”
“Who was?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Get sure. It had to be someone from your organization who released that information to the public. No one else knew it.”
“I used to teach libel law, Mr. Hutchins, on one of your dumb panels. You want some free legal advice? The statements your organization made are damaging to my reputation as an attorney and you’ve exceeded any privilege if you made them to the press.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I could sue you blind.”
“No. About teaching.”
“I said, I’ve taught libel law, on one of your… panels.” Bennie omitted the “dumb” as a goodwill gesture.
“Did you apply for your credits from the panel, for teaching?”
“I get credits for teaching? I didn’t know that.”
“It’s often overlooked.”
Bennie’s heart leapt up. “I overlooked it!”
“If you can let me have the course name and number, I can determine how many credits are due you and apply them to your delinquency.”
“Hang on.” She was already tearing backward through her Week-At-A-Glance and stopped in February. “On February eleventh, at two o’clock. The course title was Prior Restraints: Harness or Handcuffs? Who names these courses anyway?”
“I taught it, I swear, Mr. Hutchins. I’ll fax you an affidavit right away. In the meantime, you’ll reinstate my license, right? I need that license.”
“Reinstatement should take some time.”
“Not in this case it shouldn’t. Somebody screwed up, big-time, and it stinks. Unless you want me to make a very high-profile inquiry, you’ll reinstate me effective immediately.”
“Did you retain your course materials?”
“My course materials?” Bennie scanned her office bookshelves for the characteristic yellow binders. She didn’t see them anywhere, but they had to be there. “Yes, I have them right in front of me.”
“Does it show your name as a speaker?”
She rustled some papers on her desk. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Then Xerox the title page and fax it to this office, to my attention.”
“Bless you,” Bennie said, and hung up the phone with relief. Now all she had to do was find the course book. She hit the white intercom button on her phone for salvation, and Marshall picked up.
“Back in business?”
“Only if I find some course materials. They’re in my office somewhere. Rescue me, would you?”
Ten minutes later, Marshall was still rooting through the bookshelves for the course materials, tossing onto the dhurrie rug everything she thought should be thrown away. The shelves were empty and the rug was full. “We should have all of these materials centralized,” she grumbled.
“Yes, we should.”
“In the library, not the lawyers’ offices.”
“I quite agree.” At her desk, Bennie was ransacking the lawyers’ listings in the Yellow Pages to identify the lawyer in the art student’s sketch. She flipped through grainy photographs of lawyers perched on desks and holding fancy pens. Thank God lawyers had started advertising. How else could you find the murderers?
“You can’t find anything in here. This is disgusting.”
“I know.” Bennie closed the Yellow Pages, shoved the thick book aside, and reached for her marbleized legal directory.
“Why don’t you clean up or at least let me do it?”
“I’m a maverick, a renegade. The kind of gal who colors outside the lines.” Bennie cracked the legal directory. “My clients expect a messy office.”
“Nobody likes a pig.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Marshall.” She skimmed the legal directory. None of the faces in the photos matched the pencil sketch. The phone rang on Bennie’s desk and she picked it up. “Rosato.”
“What’s up, doc?” said a man’s voice on the other end, and Bennie grinned.
“Sammy!” It was Sam Freminet, the tax lawyer who was her oldest friend. He had started with her at Grun amp; Chase and had remained, becoming a partner. “You get my fax?”
“Yes. He’s hot. Is he single?”
“Stop fooling around. Do you know him? He’s a lawyer somewhere in town. I need to ID him for a murder case.”
“You’re back doing murder cases? Why didn’t I know that? Sufferin’ succotash. You don’t write, you don’t call.”
“I’ll fill you in when the dust settles. Listen, I sent the fax to everyone I know and I’m striking out all over. Do you recognize him?”
“He looks like Elmer Fudd, with that chin.”
“You’re no help. I gotta go. Call you later,” Bennie said, and hung up. She glanced at her watch. 11:45. Damn. She couldn’t spend much more time on this, not with the other things she had to do.
“Here it is!” Marshall said. “I found it!” She held out a yellow paper-covered book, and Bennie scrambled out from behind her desk to look.
“You sure? Does it show my name?”
“Yes.” Their heads bent over the book and they found Bennie’s name at the same time. Marshall gestured to the papers covering the rug. “I’ll fax this to Hutchins if you let me throw that mess out.”
“No, I need that mess.”
“It’s trash.”
“It’s essential.”
“Then forget it.” Marshall stuck the course materials under her arm and a brochure sailed to the floor. She bent over to pick it up and her smooth brow furrowed. “Who gives these legal education courses? Professors?”
“No. Practitioners, other lawyers.”
“Isn’t this the lawyer you’re looking for?”
“What?” Bennie took the slick brochure from Marshall’s outstretched hand.
Bennie reached for the telephone.
24
Alice was waiting in line to use the telephone. In the house she waited in line for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She waited in line to drop off her dirty uniform; she waited in line to pick it up clean. She waited in line to leave
